


Dancing in the Moonlight

by Elphen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale doesn't think of himself as something to look at, Besotted Crowley, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley thinks Aziraphale is beautiful, Crowley's stars, Dancing, Drinking & Talking, Established Relationship, Learning to Dance, M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Protective Crowley, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Dancing, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Stars, Supportive Crowley (Good Omens), Sweet Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sweet Crowley (Good Omens), am I missing any tags?, attempts at dancing, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen
Summary: Post-canon. Crowley and Aziraphale are enjoying their retirement in their cottage in the South Downs and in particular, this late spring evening out in the garden. They've been taking it slow in their relationship but they are in one.As conversation continues, slightly inebriated, a few things are revealed, such as Aziraphale's inability to think others might find him worth looking at, in lust or even just appreciation. Crowley tries to set the record straight, which for some reason ends up involving dancing.That neither he nor Aziraphale can do. That isn't going to stop him, though. He's going to show Aziraphale that he is very much worth looking at, for any and all pleasant reasons.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	Dancing in the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I found I had this lying around, finished and everything, and well, today seemed as good a day as any to post it. :)  
> I still am not good at summaries, please excuse it. Probably still a mix-up of book and show, you'll likely live :)

It was night-time. In fact, it was quite the lovely night in that special time of year where spring is on the very cusp of becoming proper summer, with warmth blowing in while the air still retained that crispness of spring, signalling a better chance of getting some good weather to enjoy, including spending a night outside.

Of course, this being the South Downs, the chance of good weather was a bit higher than other places in the country.

Whatever was responsible, two supernatural beings who’d decided to have a home down there, together, were certainly enjoying it.

They’d been sitting out all evening on the little terrace that they’d expected to be there when they’d moved in and so of course it had. In the same vein, they’d expected there to be plenty of room for all that they had, though more concretely all the books that Aziraphale had managed to accumulate over the years and so the cottage had become a rather spacious abode while remaining a cosy little cottage to any onlooker.

The terrace did look lovely, though, the pattern of the stones used quite pleasing and the size and design just right for the house, even though terraces like that hadn’t exactly been a priority for its original seventeenth century inhabitants. Growing up enough to perhaps be at risk of touching the ceiling was, or just growing up.

What helped it look lovely was the amount of flowers and other wonderful plants that lined the edges of it and grew up against the cottage, though all of them had been warned not to damage the structure of the building or they would be the new ingredient in an experimental dish – or just kindling for the next cosy fire. As a result, things were growing unnaturally early and astonishing well.

Aziraphale certainly enjoyed it massively, to finally get a chance to spend time out here. The previous month had been the first since they’d moved here that they’d been able to sit out here for any length of time, the snake demon not being the biggest on being cold.

Now, though…now it was just about perfect.

They’d had a little picnic – Aziraphale had protested that a picnic ought to be on a blanket on the grass, not at a table on cobblestone but Crowley had countered that that was only tradition and the angel had conceded the point – for dinner, the nibbles and other scrumptious things providing them both with something to enjoy, both in quality and quantity.

Now they were enjoying a bottle of white wine and if it was the third for the evening, what of it? It wasn’t even close to be in the running for the most bottles they’d consumed in one sitting.

That said, Aziraphale was feeling just the teensiest bit tipsy and, as he looked over at the ginger slouching across the lounge chair as though spines were something that happened to other people, there were tell-tale signs he wasn’t alone in that. Perhaps more than tipsy, really.

“Call it a night?” he suggested.

The ginger shook his head, the movement unhurried.

“Nah, not yet. Not done yet.”

“Done with what?”

Crowley threw out a hand and waved it to indicate, well, everything, more or less.

“That’s not…not really helpful, dear.”

“This…’s nice.”

“I thought nice was a four-letter word.”

Crowley looked over at him, frowning until the memory clicked. “Ah. Context. All depends on context. You forget that.”

“And what context would that be?”

“Twofold,” the demon replied, holding up two fingers for emphasis with one hand, the other gripping his wine glass. “One, this is…entirely different from the situation you mentioned, is the situation we’re in, not me. Two-oo, a four-letter word needn’t be _bad_.”

He smirked at that but instead of being flustered or even huffy, Aziraphale smiled in turn.

“Three,” he said.

“You wot?”

“Threefold, not two.”

He didn’t say anything more but despite his inebriated state, Crowley seemed to catch on rather quickly. “Ah. You mean…I’m not nice, angel.”

“I can live with kind, then.” Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to smirk, just slightly. “That’s a four-letter word.”

He saw Crowley open his mouth to argue, pause and then scrunch up his face. It looked as though he’d had a bad aftertaste in his mouth, and perhaps he had, but then he carried on talking.

“You enjoy that.” It was almost an accusation but not quite.

“But you _are_ kind, dear.”

“Not…not that, idiot. You know perfectly well what I – and you’re pulling my leg.”

“Perhaps,” the blond admitted. His light smirk turned into a genuine smile as he shifted and settled more into his chair. “I do understand what you mean about not wanting the night to end just yet.”

“No fair.”

“What, dear?”

“You’ve sobered up while I wasn’t looking.”

Aziraphale merely lifted his eyebrows, blinking in apparent innocence. “You’ve been looking in this general direction the entire time.”

Crowley paused again. Then it was his turn to smirk, one that befitted his status and was more than a little lascivious. Certainly, more than he normally exhibited; the warm but crisp air was doing him good and the drink was assisting just a tiny bit, too. He slouched a little further into his own chair. “Yeah. Course. Nothing wrong with enjoying the view, is there?”

Aziraphale couldn’t, despite his age and his experience, help but blush more than a little at the glint in those yellow eyes; this late at night, even out in their own garden like this where they were visible, nobody would see them and Crowley felt safe enough to not wear his sunglasses.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, looking to the side and down.

Then suddenly, he felt something close around the hand he was resting on the small table they had, squeezing it. Looking up, he saw what he’d felt; that it was Crowley’s hand, which had shot out the moment he’d looked down. It was squeezing his own.

“It’s just a…a compliment, angel,” the ginger said softly, now sounding rather sober himself. “Didn’t mean anything…well, I did, but not anything nasty.”

He sounded quite earnest, in a way that could’ve been attributed to the earnestness of intoxication except that he was evidently sober, and not just judging by his voice.

Aziraphale blinked, thrown a little by the comment.

“I didn’t think you did,” he said, sounding puzzled. “I just…it seems I am not at all used to…well, it was very kind of you.” He smiled and though it was somewhat self-conscious, he hoped it would pass muster.

But Crowley was frowning, a frown that on other people might be termed concerned. “Angel, are you…did I overstep somewhere?”

“What? No. No, not at all, why – why would you say that?”

“Because you look very uncomfortable with it!” Crowley said, his voice rising more than a little. He stopped and when he spoke again, it was at a markedly lower volume. One might even suggest it was a mumble that wasn’t intended for anyone else. “I should’ve seen that – “

“Then you would’ve seen something that wasn’t there,” the angel interrupted, though his voice was gentle. “I do apologise, I am not…well, not uncomfortable. Just unused to compliments, it seems, or, well…that.”

“That? What do you mean, ‘that’?”

“The, uhm, the…the heat. You know.” Aziraphale now fidgeted a little where he sat. He didn’t break eye contact, however, though it was evident that he wanted to.

Crowley watched him for a moment, one which felt uncomfortably long and Aziraphale had the thought that he might say no, play innocent and let him walk further along the plank, as it were. He swallowed, trying to prepare himself for it because he knew that he wouldn’t be getting out of it.

But the snake didn’t. His smile returned, a little stronger than before, but you couldn’t classify it as a smirk.

“Yeah, I do. But you must’ve…angel, you must’ve seen that before.”

Aziraphale nodded, returning the smile, if briefly. “Well, from you, here, in the house and outside, yes, and I am sorry that I’ve never really acknowledged that before now.”

Crowley waved his other hand, which meant white gold-hued alcohol sloshed and eventually made an arc as it spilled out of its glass.

“Never mind that right now,” he said, brow knitted together. “That’s fine. I thought if you didn’t want to, then fine, but you didn’t seem to outright mind, so I thought there was no harm in doing it.”

“I…well…no, obviously…” How should he answer something like that? Truthfully, obviously, but what was that truth exactly?

“You don’t have to answer that, angel, it’s fine. Seriously, though, you must’ve had others look at you.”

“Obviously, yes. I am not invisible. Not when I’m…well, _corporated_.”

Both knowing what he was referring to, they quickly skirted around it.

“No, not like that. You know what I meant.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do. With heat, as you put it. Someone must’ve looked at you like that before now. Someone other than me, I mean.”

Aziraphale, whose gaze had flickered down at some point during the last part of their conversation, looked up at that. There was more than a hint of colour in his cheeks and he seemed somewhat flustered still, but mainly he looked perplexed and thoughtful; his brow was furrowed, and his lips pursed as he seemed to go over it in his mind.

Then he shook his head. “No. Not to the best of my recollection and knowledge.”

Crowley’s eyebrows nearly collided with his high hairline. “Your memory works fine.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Well, yes.”

“Yeah, thought so. Always has, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So…with that in mind, in all this time…” It was Crowley’s time to shake his head but in disbelief. “You can’t have seen it. That’s the only explanation. That it’s somehow managed to completely slip past you, someone bloody well knows how.”

Mild offense made Aziraphale sit up straighter, the blush fading. “I don’t think so. I mean, really.”

Now there was a small grin of disbelief. “Come on, angel, you’re having me on.”

The blond sniffed. “I am not.”

“You must be!”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that nobody has looked at me that way?” The colour started to creep back into the soft cheeks, but it was still somehow different and not endearing in the same way. It felt as though that was closer to being embarrassed rather than being flustered and there was nothing appealing in that for the demon.

Crowley looked at his best friend and partner as though he’d just asked him a question that did not make sense in any way, which it didn’t. It really did not, though, not at all.

“Are you seriously…? Aziraphale, you cannot honestly be asking me that question.”

Aziraphale remained silent though his mouth worked, and he had to swallow around a lump in his throat. Then his gaze lowered.

“Why, you ask? Because I have eyes, angel, and so does most of the human population. There is no way that none of them, in all the time we’ve both been on Earth, has spared you an appreciative look, never mind a heated one.”

Still no answer. Crowley ploughed on. “What about the people you learned to dance with? The galoche or something?”

“The gavotte,” the blond corrected, quietly, but didn’t offer up anything more.

“Right. You told me you spent ages learning and practising that dance. In an all gentleman’s club, no, that _particular_ gentleman’s club. Someone must’ve looked then.” And possibly just a little bit more, given the nature of the club and the views of the era.

A distinct sense of jealousy had bubbled up inside the demon the moment he’d focused on the thought that others had looked at Aziraphale with lust in their eyes and in their minds. He’d pushed it back down, though, and continued to repress it even as it tried to flare back up.

Because even though he was a demon and therefore, it would sort of be expected and accepted that he would feel jealousy, it was not only not productive, it was completely unfair of him, considering that the angel and demon hadn’t had even the glimmer of a chance to be more than what they already were.

Besides, it was hardly as though he could blame them for doing so, was it? That was rather the point, really. He knew that what he saw was there for everyone to see and there would be someone with enough class and aesthetic sense to pick up on it, too. A lot of people, in his estimation, actually, regardless of the fact that Aziraphale seemed to have been oblivious to it.

That was actually more heart-aching than anything and in the face of that, along with a strange sense of pride, the jealousy had very little if any ground to grow on, much less thrive, despite its attempts.

Besides, it would’ve been nice to know that his angel would have had someone other than Crowley to lift his spirits, even if it was just through an appreciative look, whether it was heated or not.

He would rather that he hadn’t been lonely in all the time they’d spent on Earth, even if it hadn’t been the demon who had gotten that close.

Aziraphale frowned, evidently thinking about what Crowley had just said.

“I wouldn’t have…no,” he said after a moment or two. “It was, well, of course people looked at each other, you can hardly move in the dance without looking, what with all those little jumps and turns and such. But though I admit I perhaps was a bit preoccupied with learning, I cannot recall any of those dear boys _looking._ ”

The crease in his brow lessened slightly as he came to something of a conclusion. “Well, not at me, at any rate.”

The last sentence wasn’t said sadly. It wasn’t even wistful. Just a statement of fact, which somehow made it worse even though Crowley would’ve thought that made it better, as it would mean Aziraphale at least wasn’t affected by it. But no, it did make it worse, for it to be so…ingrained, as it were, that it didn’t even register that they could look at him, too.

It certainly wasn’t helped by the evidence that he had noticed them looking in a more general sense, so it wasn’t as though he was entirely oblivious to such things.

“Why not at you?” Crowley asked and made a concerted effort to keep his voice calm. Then he thought of something else and decided to change tack a little. “Did you look at others?”

“Ehm…”

“You can tell me.”

It wasn’t as though he would be mad if he had – or that he would be if Aziraphale looked at others now. He knew where his heart lay, where it would never budge from, had in fact never budged from, and that was what he cared about.

“No…I….”

“Angel, it’s perfectly fine if you did. Trust me.”

At long last, it seemed, a smile, even if it was only small.

“I do. You know that. But I haven’t. Well…” He trailed off momentarily. “Not unless they’ve looked like you.”

Now the blush was back and more pronounced than before, the demon easily seeing it even in the ever-decreasing light of the night around them. It even seemed, judging from the peripheral facial changes, that it was back to being more about being flustered than outright embarrassed, and Crowley couldn’t help being happy about that.

Then the inherent compliment of that statement registered in his mind.

Crowley blinked, then had to blink again in sheer surprise.

It wasn’t that he doubted the strength or depth of Aziraphale’s feelings – an angel who was prepared to stand against Heaven itself to save the world, stand openly in defiance of them, beside the demon he loved, even grabbing his hand, despite what he stood to lose and the repercussions he could face, you didn’t question the sincerity or depth of his love.

Nor was he stingy with his love, in several different ways, including compliments, big and small. So, one might ask why Crowley was so surprised at this one.

It wasn’t that odd, though, not really, when you came down to it. This wasn’t just a compliment. It was an admittance of…what exactly? That he had a type that boiled down to Crowley?

No. That who had captured his eye through so many centuries, perhaps even millennia, had been Crowley and no one else. To even come close had meant resembling the demon to a supposedly rather large degree.

It was an admittance of just how long he’d held his feelings for Crowley and as such, it rather bowled him over. No, no ‘rather’ about it; it completely bowled him over.

“Angel,” he breathed. His hand tightened on the one he held. “You…really?”

The smile widened though the shy aspect didn’t fade. “Yes, of course. It has always been you.”

Crowley swallowed as he felt his own cheeks colour despite his efforts.

“I was just too blind to see it for what it was,” Aziraphale continued. “Or afraid to, given who…but I am incredibly sorry – “

“Stop right there,” Crowley interrupted. “I’m not having any of that nonsense, now or at any other point.”

“Crowley…”

“No. Do you hear me? No apologies. No guilt. No what-ifs and could’ve-been. What we have is here, now, and beyond that into the future. All the time in the world.”

_Until they decide to try again_. The words resonated soundlessly between them, felt and known and entirely unacknowledged. They would deal with that when the time came, if it ever came.

They lapsed into silence for a few moments.

Then, quietly, Aziraphale spoke again. “I don’t see why you’re so disbelieving of the fact.”

It took Crowley an embarrassing second to catch onto what the blond was talking about; his train of thought having been steered in quite the opposite direction in the last part of their conversation.

“I told you, didn’t I? I have eyes and so do others. They’ll have seen what I see.”

“They don’t know me.”

“True,” the demon conceded. He paused to take a sip of his rather depleted glass of wine. Then he continued. “But though I admit what’s there when you get to dig and get to know you has by far the most allure and charm, there’s quite the appeal in the surface, too.”

He smiled but was careful to keep it warm and sincere. It wouldn’t do to undermine his point by letting even a smirk slip by.

The colour intensified on the soft cheeks.

The ginger then made a quick decision. After putting his glass down and while still holding onto the hand in his, he slid onto the grass on his knees, somehow managing to get in front of the other on the other side of the table in one go. There he caught the blond’s gaze again.

“All I’m saying is that there is no reason you wouldn’t have been looked at,” he said, “with and without heat in their eyes. You are beautiful. Now, if you don’t want to see or know of that heat, that’s different and we can do that no problem.”

Aziraphale frowned in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

“If you’d rather I didn’t say anything or look at you like that, then just say it. It’s fine.”

“But Crowley…this isn’t an isolated incident, even if it was clearer now.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s all fine.”

“What if…what if I don’t mind it?”

Eyebrows rose in surprise and, for lack of a better word, hope. “You don’t?”

“No, not at all. I just…I suppose I never pieced it together, that a look like that could mean…well, nor that it could be directed at me. But is it – is it only for lust?”

There was something about the question, perhaps the earnestness of it, that made Crowley chuckle.

“Lust is a lot of things, angel. Doesn’t have to be ‘I want to bone you right now’. Sexual, I mean,” he added, remembering that for all his intelligence and such, there were just some things that Aziraphale completely failed to pick up on, such as current slang, not helped by his lean towards the 1950s.

“Surely, that’s more just aesthetic pleasure, then,” the blond said, surprisingly making no comment about the language.

“Bit of an overlap, perhaps,” Crowley conceded. “But there’s a lot in between the two and more besides, really. Even for humans though I admit they do have a tendency towards the sexual.”

“Well, they are only here for a short time, aren’t they?” Aziraphale pointed out. He got a nod.

A moment’s pause. “Thank you, Crowley, for…well…”

“No need to thank me, angel.” He stretched a little so he could comb his free hand through the feathery soft curls. “I’m just glad you chose me.”

All of a sudden, and quite unexpectedly, he was kissed. Just a soft, chaste one, really, but it still managed to catch the demon by surprise sometimes; the newness of it, comparatively speaking, had yet to dissipate.

“Always,” Aziraphale said when he pulled back.

Crowley looked up at him and his breath caught at the love and warmth practically beaming out at him, knowing that it was all for him.

At that, he made another quick decision. Standing up with a grace that owed at least something to his serpentine shape, he pulled the angel up with him by the hand. Aziraphale wobbled just a teeny bit but kept his balance and let himself be pulled from the patio onto the grass.

It should’ve been wet with dew and therefore should’ve started to soak their trousers, but it didn’t. Possibly it was terrified of being ripped out for artificial turf.

“Crowley, what are you doing?” Aziraphale asked but there was no anger or reprimand in the voice, just mild confusion.

“Just wanted to show you something.”

“Show me what?”

Crowley didn’t answer. At least not straight away. There was something he needed to do first.

So instead, keeping pictures and film he’d seen in mind to have some sort of guideline, he manoeuvred them into a position where they were more or less slotted against each other front to front. Their hands were still entwined while Crowley slid his other to the small of Aziraphale’s back, settling it in the middle just above where the curve that became the swell of buttocks began.

That was possibly not the correct position for his hand, at least not for actually dancing, but it didn’t matter. He’d work it out – or alternatively, around it. He was good at finding work arounds, after all, wasn’t he?

It wasn’t exactly difficult to work out what he had in mind, given that little manoeuvre. But despite that, the expression of puzzlement remained on the angel’s face as he looked down between them only to look back up at the defined, slim face.

“Crowley, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Well, I would say that you’ve… but why this all of a sudden?”

“Do I need a particular reason to do it?” Crowley countered, shifting a little on his feet so he stood better, or rather, more according to an image he had in his mind.

“No, of course not. It’s merely that, in light of what we just discussed, this seems rather incongruous.”

“How so?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Oh, don’t play the innocent.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The smile he couldn’t keep off his face somewhat spoiled the effect, though, but he didn’t mind.

There was silence for a few moments then the blond spoke again. “Crowley, I know you had a reason for doing this. Please tell me?”

“I technically haven’t done anything yet.”

“Crowley. What did you want to show me?”

Well, there was a point where dragging it out was no longer any fun, and he did want to tell Aziraphale his reason.

“I just wanted to show you that…well, I suppose I wanted to show you that when it comes to dancing, you can’t help but look at your partner.”

“That is hardly true,” Aziraphale protested, “not in any professional dance that I know of, and in any case, this isn’t how the start position of the gavotte should be.”

Crowley noticed, however, that despite the protests – and so what if it was true that for professional ballroom dancers, they almost studiously looked in opposite directions as they danced, their movements as fluent as though they really were china figurines spinning across a mechanical floor? – Aziraphale didn’t make any attempt to pull free of the sort-of embrace his partner had him in. Something which, though not a surprise to him, still made him happy.

“I wasn’t talking about professional dancing, angel. I was talking about ordinary people dancing with a partner for the enjoyment of it and nothing more – and before you start, occult forces count in that, too.”

“I am still not occult. I’m ethereal.”

“Forest, trees. Or possibly tomato, tomahto.” _Let’s call the whole thing off._ Most definitely not.

“Well, really.” The indignation faded, though, and was replaced with…not exactly uncertainty but something along those lines.

Then, after a few long moments, during which the demon just waited patiently, the angel said quietly, head tilting down to stare at the ground, “I do not know how to dance anything other than the gavotte, Crowley.”

Where the admission that nobody, not even at the 100 Guineas Club, had looked at him – though the day Crowley believed that would be the day Gabriel grew compassion – had come out as though it was a mere fact, and one that wasn’t even consequential, this sounded wistful and sad at the same time.

It sounded as though he was admitting to a failing, which wasn’t just not true at all, it wrenched something inside the ginger and needed to be rectified immediately.

He removed the hand from the other’s back and brought it up so he could tilt the head back up by the chin.

“I don’t even know how to dance that,” he admitted, one corner of his lip turned up in a small but warm smile. “I can’t dance at all and yet, here I am. Standing here, with you, in our garden, ready to make a fool of myself as I try anyway.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, possibly to argue or some similar nonsense, the ginger would bet, and he would be right, but Crowley didn’t give him the opportunity to do so.

“It doesn’t matter if I do, though, because I am here, with you, and it will all be fine. More than fine, I know. I just want to dance with you, even if we have to step on each other’s toes a hundred times before we’re done or even if we end up just swaying a bit back and forth to non-existent music.”

“I…all for you to prove that in normal dancing, you look at each other? But that hardly – it doesn’t have to be appreciative or heated glances even so,” Aziraphale argued, sounding as if he was determined to find a way to undermine Crowley’s point. As if he had trouble believing this and not for the fact that it was silly, which it most definitely was.

“Nope,” Crowley agreed easily. “It doesn’t. But it almost always is.”

“And how would you know that?” It was almost an accusation. Not quite, though.

One eyebrow rose. “You think I’ve haven’t done any temptations in bars, tavernas, ballrooms and nightclubs, do you? You go where you’re needed or told to, angel, you know that. I’ve seen my share of dancing over the years, even if I haven’t been one to join.”

“Well, so have I. Proper dancing.”

“A jumping jig is hardly classified as proper dancing, and it wasn’t at the time, either.”

Indignation pushed away uncertainty for the moment. “It was! And it is not a…a jig. The very thought – it was dignified.”

The other eyebrow rose to match the first. “It was folk dance with ballet.”

“Aha! So, you know what it looks like, despite calling it a, a _galoche.”_

“Yeah, course I do. Didn’t remember the name of it but I went through the baroque period, same as you – and I know that what you learned wasn’t the real thing. Or rather, the original dance, I mean,” he amended, not wanting to aggravate the blond further by implying he’d learned a fake or imitation dance. That wasn’t the point or his intention.

“Or did you learn both?” he asked, to further amend – and mend.

Aziraphale, whose mouth had opened in something between shock and indignation, uttered a noise that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed little squeak and closed it again. A moment or two later, he answered.

“Purely the later one,” he admitted. He paused, then added, “It was _fun_.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t and I’m glad you had something good out of, well.” No need to dwell on their argument and his subsequent sleep through the rest of the century. Not now. “I – you know I’m mainly teasing you, right?”

Thankfully, Aziraphale nodded almost immediately. “Yes. Yes, I believe I do know. I just…”

“I know,” Crowley said, quietly. He bent down a little and captured his angel’s lips in a soft kiss, which the other responded to instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he pulled back. “I didn’t mean to – “

The angel smiled. “No, I know, dear. Thank you for, for wanting to show me.”

“Don’t mention it. Especially not when you haven’t actually allowed me to show you yet.”

He replaced the hand back on the small of the other’s back. Aziraphale hadn’t made any indication of attempting or even wanting to move away but nevertheless, Crowley drew him in just a little closer, for nothing more than the pleasure of having his angel so close to him.

“You don’t need to – “

“I know I don’t. I want to do it. Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I never said that.”

“Did imply it, though.”

Aziraphale hesitated then blinked, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. “I…yes, I can see that. I do apologise, that was not my intention. I merely didn’t want you to feel…obligated.”

“As though I ever would,” Crowley replied with a small snort and Aziraphale smiled.

The blond moved his own free hand up to rest on the ginger’s shoulder, lightly as though he wasn’t quite sure that what he was doing was the right thing.

Crowley smiled in encouragement and brought their still interlaced hands a little closer to their bodies.

Now, in truth, though he was doing a fairly good job of mimicking the image he’d fixed in his mind, he wasn’t actually sure of what he was doing. It hadn’t been a lie when he’d said he didn’t know how to dance. Not even a little bit.

Nor was it a lie, however, that he’d seen people dance, all different kinds and from all walks of human life, with varying levels of skill.

He hadn’t told Aziraphale that a lot of dancing really boiled down to a highly formalised mating display, much like birds did. The scandalised look he probably would sport as a result, if he wasn’t already aware of that fact, might be funny but it would also risk robbing Crowley of the chance to dance with his angel. That wasn’t an option.

Right. He could do this. Nothing to it, really, it was just moving his feet about. He did that on a daily basis, didn’t he? It wasn’t even as though he had to time it to any music.

How did it go again?

Reminding himself that he had warned Aziraphale he couldn’t dance, and that they would end up with toes being trodden on, at the very least, he took a deep breath. That reminder was sullied a little by the fact that despite having given himself an out, he still wanted to do well.

He wanted to pull off actual dancing and do it well enough that he could impress his angel. Which was honestly ridiculous, when he stopped to think about it; wanting to excel at something he had never noviced never mind mastered to impress someone who he’d known for millennia and who probably knew him as well as he did himself at this point – and yet had still decided to be with him – was the very epitome of pointless.

Knowing that, knowing that he would be trying to impress someone it wasn’t necessary, or even possible, for him to impress and had, realistically, no chance of accomplishing it should’ve put a lid on it, well and good. Except, it didn’t. Not even remotely.

Taking another deep breath, he tried to picture something fairly…well, if he was being entirely honest, he didn’t really know whether it was actually difficult or easy, did he? Or even somewhere in between. All he could say was that what he had in mind didn’t appear to be difficult and that he hoped to be right.

One step forward. Not too far, keep a grip on your partner. One step.

As he took the step, Aziraphale took, thankfully, a corresponding step backwards. Then another one when, still acting on his fuzzy mental images, Crowley took another one and to the side, as well. A few more steps, slow and small but definitely there, and they were what could, with a squint, be called something akin to dancing. It was anything but graceful but at the same time, neither was stepping on the other’s toe and they were moving around the garden slowly but surely.

Before he started, he had thought he would stare at Aziraphale to prove his point – that he always enjoyed looking at the other and took as many opportunities to do it as he could was another, irrelevant matter in the circumstances – and had worried that what he would actually be doing was mainly stare at his feet with his heart thumping a somewhat staccato rhythm as he tried not to screw it all up.

What he ended up doing instead, once the initial few steps were successfully navigated, was in fact looking at his angel but not to prove a point. Rather, his gaze fell quite naturally on the other, looking at him at they moved around.

Aziraphale looked back at him, his expression a mixture of surprise, joy, love and just a tint of worry, which, to be fair, was neither surprising nor unreasonable in the circumstances. Crowley couldn’t help smiling.

As they moved, it seemed to dawn on the angel just what was going on. Not in the sense that they were actually dancing because if he hadn’t picked up on that already, then he was being exceedingly, uncharacteristically dense, and though Aziraphale was many things, dense was not one of them. Obstinate wasn’t the same thing at all.

Nor was being somewhat blind due to millennia of loyalty, something which Crowley wouldn’t hold against him. He did remember what Heaven had been like, after all, and they most definitely hadn’t matured as they aged.

It was more in the sense that what Crowley had predicted would happen was actually happening; regardless of the skill with which they were moving, or lack thereof, Crowley was indeed looking at him, with that minute lack of focus that meant a gaze was intended but it wasn’t consciously intended.

Probably it also helped that the eyelids had lowered just enough to make the eyes seem a little hooded and the smile was still in place. It was hardly what one would call lascivious but somehow, the earnestness which it held seemed to still do the trick.

Soft cheeks flamed again.

“I...Crowley, you are…” He paused.

“I am,” the demon agreed, the smile increasing just a fraction.

“No. What I meant was…are you doing it on purpose?”

“The dancing? Yeah, otherwise – “

“No,” Aziraphale interrupted and now there was a definite hint of impatience to his voice. “You know perfectly well what I mean. What you tried to make your point about, it should hardly count when you’re doing it on purpose because – “

“I’m not. I promise you I am not looking at you to prove the point. My point is proven simply by the fact that I cannot stop looking at you, even though I really should be looking at my feet because in a moment it’s going to go wrong.”

He hadn’t exactly wanted to divulge that last part but when he got a small, evidently unintended giggle for his trouble, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

“You are doing perfectly fine, I think, my dear,” Aziraphale reassured him. “Though I admittedly am hardly an expert on these…closer dances, to say the least, I do believe you are doing an admirable job. I certainly cannot say I am experiencing any kind of toe throbbing or similar. Too bad, at least.”

“Oh, ha-ha. Ha.” Despite his words, his smile wouldn’t leave his face, thus somewhat spoiling the effect. Not that he minded that either.

Then, as they managed to continue their slow dance, Crowley watched, with fascination and warmth blooming hard in his chest, Aziraphale’s own gaze soften and grow just a little bit hooded as he continued to look back at the slightly taller supernatural entity. It happened gradually but the slowness allowed him to watch it occur with a clarity he was grateful for, especially as the sincerity and depth of it grew clearer as well.

Another dozen steps and then it seemed that the angel picked up on it, too; his eyes went from hooded to wide open in an instant and then they did almost stumble over their own feet.

“I – “

“Don’t.” Aziraphale’s face fell a little at that, so Crowley hastened to add, “Don’t stop it, I meant. You’re doing fine. More than fine.”

“But I – “

“Proved my point even more, that’s all.”

“I didn’t mean to, to…”

Crowley touched their foreheads together, somewhere at the back of his mind marvelling over the fact that he was still moving around the patch of grass as though he’d done it a thousand times, even if he was doing it slowly. The rest of him was otherwise occupied at that moment.

“That’s really the point, though, isn’t it?” he asked in a whisper. “It happens all on its own because it can’t help but happen.”

“But wouldn’t you rather have it…have it be intentional?”

“Have it – ? You mean, would I only want it when it was done deliberately?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Why would I only want that? Why shouldn’t it be brilliant to see it happen on your face naturally, unguardedly, all on its own because that’s how you feel inside, and you can’t keep it from showing on your face? Why am I not allowed that?”

Aziraphale blinked, several times in quick succession, his mouth forming a soft ‘o’. Then he bit his lip.

“I suppose, when you put it like that, then…then it would be terrible of me to dismiss it, wouldn’t it?”

Crowley didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, in any case, and he had something that he would much rather do.

Tilting his head a little for better access, he pressed his lips against the other’s, gentle as though those lips were fragile sugar. Aziraphale responded in kind and when they parted their lips, the kiss remained achingly soft, with passion wrapped in all-encompassing love and tenderness.

Much like their reciprocated gazes when they’d danced.

They didn’t realise they had stopped dancing, or what passed for it, until they pulled apart and that was a long time after they had started.

In fact, it had been so long that there wasn’t even a hint of light left in the sky, where there’d been at least a tiny smidgeon when they started. No light apart from the moon that had crept up into the darkness and the scattering of stars that spread all over it. They leant light, of course, but it was quite the different kind of light. It always felt as though you were allowed to hide from that light, should you want or need to.

Had they been in London still, they wouldn’t have been able to see anything; the light pollution would’ve ruined any such natural light very effectively.

Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have mattered to Crowley whether he could see the stars or not. In fact, he’d been delighted to not see them, would treasure the fact that he wasn’t reminded quite as blatantly of what he’d lost when he’d fallen every single time that he made the mistake of looking upwards. There was the sky itself, of course, but nothing hurt quite like seeing those little pinpricks of gas twinkling away in the night sky, almost mocking him.

Now, though…now he found that he didn’t mind so much, was perhaps even grateful to have them shine down on him. Possibly someone would claim that the gratefulness had more to do with spite than anything else, but he wouldn’t agree. Not at all.

They were still there to shine, weren’t they? God hadn’t erased them. Not even the ones the angels who’d become demons had created. Granted, there weren’t _too_ many of those, at least in terms of what was visible from earth, but it was a big universe out there with a lot of stars, it would only stand to reason that it wasn’t only Crowley who was a star-creating demon, even if he didn’t know for sure.

Possibly the only one who created a whole nebula, though.

_You had help._

Only a little.

He felt another kiss on his lips, short and sweet and lovely, and returned to the here and now.

“Penny for them?”

“Just…thinking about stars, really.” Which perhaps wasn’t what he should say, given the circumstances.

“Oh, Crowley…” and the angel’s voice was laced with pain and compassion rather than hurt at his thoughts having drifted.

“No, it’s fine. Really, it’s fine. I was just thinking that…well, She has left them up there, hasn’t She?”

“Well, yes?”

“No, the, ehm, the ones we…”

“Oh. You mean the ones that – oh, yes.”

A small and tight but sincere smile that spoke of relief from something you hadn’t even noticed had been wound up tight inside you until the time it unspooled graced the blond’s lips.

“She has, hasn’t she?”

“She didn’t need to. Obviously.” Why had he felt the urge to add that last word?

“Does She do anything She doesn’t need to?”

“How would I know?” It was meant to come out nonchalant to the point of being flippant but instead, it sounded more than a little wistful.

Sorrow and anguish flittered across a soft face as the angel untangled his hands and brought both of his arms down to wrap around the demon’s waist, turning it into more of a proper embrace.

“No. Quite right,” he said, his voice quiet. “Ineffable, I suppose.”

“You had to say that, didn’t you?” The words lacked any proper bite, however, just a weary resignation.

Silence was his answer for a good few long moments after that. Then, even more quietly, to the point of being almost small, “Isn’t it true, though?”

The question of ‘wasn’t that part of our entire point That Saturday?’ hung in the air between them, drawing them further together rather than pushing them apart as they remembered just what it had meant then and, perhaps, could speculate on what it would mean for them going forward. Which in turn tied into what they had been discussing.

Crowley sighed deeply, the exhalation feeling somehow just a little cathartic as something small but tight started to unravel in his chest.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he conceded. Then he squeezed the angel in his grip a little. “I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows lifted and drew together. “Whatever for?”

“For…for bringing that up and ruining – “

A single finger came up, with surprising speed, to press against his lips, asking him for silence. He shut his mouth.

“None of that, now,” Aziraphale said softly, warmly, removing his finger. “You didn’t ruin anything, my dear, not in the slightest. Quite the opposite, in fact. Most decidedly. This has been a thoroughly charming and delightful evening and night, and I wouldn’t have ever believed…”

He paused, seemingly to think, then shook his head slightly, in a way that suggested it was at himself as much as anything. Then he smiled. “Well, thank you for teaching me, not to mention showing me.”

Crowley was about to open his mouth to ask what he meant but thankfully, his brain kicked in before he could get the words past his lips to tell him that he didn’t bloody well need to ask that, you idiot.

“You’re more than welcome, angel,” he said instead. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He got a kiss for that and when they pulled apart a little while later, there was not only a smile but a definite hint of heat in those green eyes. Not enough to burn but certainly enough to make him take notice. He unconsciously licked his lips.

“Oh, I did.” The smile turned, if Crowley was any judge, ever so slightly impish, which was as lovely as it was surprising, given earlier. Then again, Aziraphale was intelligent and a quick learner when he wanted to be.

It was proved when he went on, “I loved it. I would think, though, that I might need a bit more teaching.”

Crowley grinned in turn. “I think that can most definitely be arranged.”

“Just to be on the safe side, you understand.”

“Oh, obviously.”

They were both grinning now as they started to move again, slowly and carefully, not taking their eyes off each other as they moved, despite the risk that might prove to their toes. It didn’t matter. They could and would learn.

They had all the time in the world now, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I learned about the gavotte as I wrote this, which was fun. I really hope and believe there isn't anything triggering here but do let me know if there is. Aziraphale's thoughts on others looking at him is based on, well, myself, really.
> 
> Feedback is as always loved, cherished and treasured, if you'd be kind enough to keep the criticism constructive.


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